Real Life
by CindyD
Summary: AU, post-Grave fic. After surviving the trials, Spike gets everything he ever wanted. Or does he? S/B *COMPLETE*
1. Default Chapter

Title: Real Life 1/?  
  
Author: Cindy  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Category: Drama Pairing: S/B  
  
Spoilers: through season 6  
  
Summary: AU, post-Grave fic. After surviving the trials, Spike gets everything he ever wanted. Or does he?  
  
Feedback: always appreciated  
  
Notes: The idea for this was actually stolen...er, inspired by an episode of the TV series, The Dead Zone, though they hardly originated the concept, as you shall see. Hopefully you will enjoy this Spikey spin on it.  
  
Special Thanks: To Kelly for the beta  
  
  
  
"You have endured the required trials," intones the otherworldly voice.  
  
"Bloody right I have," I answer. I drag myself up off the ground. I can barely stand, yet I feel exalted. "So, give me what I want. Make me what I was... so Buffy can get what she deserves. "  
  
"Very well."  
  
The thing's hand reaches out to touch my chest and the agony is nearly unbearable. I can hear someone screaming, and realize that it's me.  
  
I wake with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. The sound I hear is not my own screaming, but something just as horrible:  
  
"Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on...."  
  
Who chose this poncy station, I wonder, because for certain it wasn't me. I reach over, hit the snooze button and flop back on the bed.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
Snooze button?  
  
I open my eyes and slowly look around. Not my crypt, but it looks vaguely familiar. I notice a stuffed pig staring at me from the dresser across the room. Bloody hell, I'm in Buffy's house. But this is Joyce's old room. Where are the wiccas? What, did I get so stinking drunk after...well, after what I almost did, that I somehow ended up here? And why am I not yet dust? Before I can suss any of it out, I am interrupted by the slayer's sweet voice wafting up from the floor below.  
  
"Hey, William, get your ass down here! You're going to be late!"  
  
Right, then. I swing my legs out of bed and onto the floor and promptly realize that I'm naked. Interesting, that. While looking around for my jeans and t shirt, I notice a photograph on the nightstand. It's Buffy and some bloke, and I am hit with a wave of jealousy that feels like one of the slayer's punches to my gut. I pick up the photo, and stare at him. My God. It's me. It's us. Me and Buffy. We appear to be, on a boat? There is water in the background. The wind is blowing our hair back, and mine is sandy brown. I am standing behind her, my arms clasped in front of her. She has her hands over mine, and is leaning back into me. And she's laughing. We both look so...happy.  
  
"William!"  
  
"Coming, love! Keep your knickers on!"  
  
"Since when do you want my knickers on?" she calls back cheerily.  
  
Bloody buggerin' hell, what is goin' on here? Unable to find my usual attire, I put on the - oh God - khaki pants and button down shirt that are folded neatly over the back of the chair. There's a pair of socks and lace up shoes there, too, and in my size. Since my boots are nowhere in sight, I put them on.  
  
I pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, peering around the doorway cautiously lest a stake be waiting for me. Not that I don't deserve it, but now I'm curious and want to see what the hell's goin' on.  
  
Buffy sits perched on a kitchen chair, attempting to shove some sort of gruel into the mouth of a chubby infant, perhaps six or seven months old, I'd wager, who is sitting in a high chair. What, is she babysitting for extra money now? Beats slinging burgers, I guess. When the kid sees me, she starts banging on the tray and knocks the spoon from Buffy's hand. It goes clattering across the floor, and Buffy looks back at me, exasperated and more than a little amused.  
  
"Finally! Here," she says, grabbing another baby spoon from a kitchen drawer. "You finish feeding her, and I'll make you some breakfast before you have to leave. Eggs o.k.?"  
  
I stand speechless in the doorway. I do believe my mouth is hanging open.  
  
"Will? You feeling o.k. honey?" And I am immobile as well. The love of my life has just called me honey, not to mention she keeps using my given name, and I am completely paralyzed with... joy? Confusion? Fear? Concern clouds her face and she crosses the room. The back of her hand rests against my forehead. "You don't have a fever," she says, with the knowing voice of one who has seen at least a few fevers in recent months. I look over at the baby, and notice the little bump on her nose. Just like Buffy's.  
  
"I'm...I'm fine." I take the spoon from her hand and go to the table. I am either dreaming, under a spell, or in some alternate universe, but in any case I rather fancy it, so I'm going to play along. The chair is sitting in direct sunlight, so I attempt to move it without getting burnt to a crisp. I grab a towel off the table and wrap it around my hand.  
  
"Now what are you doing?"  
  
"The chair's in the sun, pet."  
  
"Yeah, this *is* Southern California, not London, remember? I know you're down with the rain and the gloom and all, but don't you think this is a little extreme?" She grabs the towel away and snaps it playfully at me, then shoves me down in the chair. So, this is how she means to kill me. But to my astonishment, I am not incinerated. Accept by the considerable heat that is generated by the slayer's body which is suddenly in my lap.  
  
"Really, William," she says softly. We are nose to nose. "Are you sure you're not sick? You're acting a little on the bizzarro side." She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face in my neck. "I'm worried about you, baby."  
  
Oh, God, I think I'm going to cry now, and I don't much care. What a tosser I am. I hold her so tightly that I'm afraid I'll hurt her. But she's the slayer, and I am apparently now a mere mortal, so of course, I don't. "I've never been better, actually," I answer truthfully.  
  
She pulls back to kiss me softly and runs one hand through my hair. Her eyes are bright, and I know she can feel me through the thin cotton pants that she wears. "I love the bed hair, but did you forget to look in the mirror? Perhaps you better actually comb it before you leave," she smirks at me.  
  
Mirror?  
  
"Your students might think we've been naughty before breakfast."  
  
Students?  
  
She nibbles on my ear then, and I forget about the students. "In fact, I think I'll have *you* for breakfast," she whispers.  
  
"Buffy..." I moan. The baby begins to chortle gleefully and bang on the tray again.  
  
"Uh, oh. We keep forgetting we need to keep things G rated around Megan." Buffy hops off my lap. "Don't worry," she says, seeing my look of disappointment, "she's sleeping well, lately. We'll go all NC17, later, post slayage, 'kay?" Oh. My. God. She winks at me. "Now, sweet William, it's time for you to feed your daughter." 


	2. Real Life, part 2

Real Life 2/?  
  
By Cindy  
  
  
  
Disclaimers, part 1. Thanks to Kelly for the beta!  
  
  
  
  
  
I am wiping cereal off my chin when the back door opens. The tot has good aim, just like her mum. I'm relieved to see it's a familiar face.  
  
"Ready to go?" asks Willow. Apparently, she is addressing me. I look at Buffy, as if she can give me the answer. She shakes her head at me again and smiles at Willow.  
  
"Sorry. He's in absent minded professor mode this morning, I'm afraid. I pity his poor students."  
  
Willow smiles. "The females in his class won't mind. And probably a few of the guys. They'll just sit and look at him for an hour." I'm wondering if I should be flattered or insulted. Not to mention, what sodding class are they talking about? Red shrugs in my direction. "I hear things," she says.  
  
"As long as they just look and don't touch," Buffy says. To me, she says, "did you forget that the car's in the shop and I need the jeep? Willow's giving you a ride."  
  
"Oh, right." Thank God, since I have no idea where we're going.  
  
She walks over to me and takes my face in her hands. "Have a good day," she says as she kisses me. I look at bite size. I guess I'm supposed to kiss her good bye, too. I lean over and kiss her forehead, and she grabs my nose. I can't help smiling. Cute kid.  
  
"Bye, Megan," I say. Buffy hands me a briefcase and a set of keys, which I put in my pocket. I follow Willow outside... and into the sun. I just stand there for a moment, soaking it in, but Will is already opening the door of her car.  
  
"William, stop daydreaming. My fellow computer geeks await me."  
  
As I get into the passenger's side, I notice various computer components in the back seat. So, Willow has embraced her techy side in this world. Ah, but is that a spell book I see as well? She hands me a take-out cup of tea, and sips on some coffee herself. I have time to really look at her as she drives, and I see that she looks a little different than I remember. Her hair is long and pulled back into a low ponytail. The shade is darker than it was. She wears almost no make-up. Her manner, too, is more subdued. She seems a little...faded. Not as vibrant.  
  
"So, what's new, Red?" Do I call her Red here? She doesn't seem to mind.  
  
"Oh, you know me. Same old, same old."  
  
Hmm. "How's classes?" Information, woman. I need information.  
  
"Good. Just taking the one summer course."  
  
Let's try this again. "Soooo...how long have I been teaching, now, anyway?"  
  
"Well, let's see. You started dating Buffy when you were the TA for her class freshman year. You were just finishing your masters, right? And then they hired you the following year after the Prof was, um, well, eviscerated by the monster of the week. So that's, what? Two years? Gee, you are all absent minded-y today, aren't you?"  
  
I try to laugh it off. "I guess. So, how am I doin', would you say? As a teacher, I mean."  
  
"Are you kidding? English Lit has never been more popular." Alright! Now we're getting somewhere. I'm teaching English Lit at university. Why am I relieved? I have to teach English Lit at university! Bugger.  
  
Willow takes another sip of her coffee and gives me a sideways glance. "You and Buffy seem to be doing well."  
  
"Is there a reason why we shouldn't be?" I try not to sound defensive.  
  
"Well, it's just, Buffy was depressed for so long. You're like, the light in her life. You and the baby." We've stopped at a light, and she looks over at me. "She's been through so much. I don't know what would have happened if it wasn't for you." The light turns green and her eyes turn back to the road. "I really envy you two." I can hear the genuine wistfulness in her voice. I want to ask more about Buffy, but I'm afraid it'll seem too odd. I'm her husband, after all. Husband. I decide to go in a different direction.  
  
"So, who's your great love, Red?"  
  
She smiles sadly. "Me? That would be Tara, I guess. Since she left, I haven't really been dating much."  
  
Tara left? Why? When? "I'm sorry, about what happened." Whatever it was.  
  
"I know. I mean, I still can't believe that she went back with her family. She hated them, and I thought she loved me. You know, *really* loved me. They had her so convinced that she was bad, and she was about the best person I ever knew." I sit, dumbfounded, while Willow parks and gets out of the car. I wasn't there with my stupid chip to pop the little witch in the nose. And that bastard father of hers got his hooks back into her. Red knocks on my window and I jump. I look up guiltily, but Willow has no idea.  
  
"Come on, we're going to be late."  
  
We continue chatting until we get to the front of one of the buildings. "Uh, Will?" she asks me.  
  
"Yeah, Red?"  
  
She points to the next building over. "Your class is over there, Mr. Head- In-The-Clouds."  
  
"Oh, right." We plan to meet for lunch, and I make my way over to the building. Bloody hell, what have I gotten myself into? As I walk down the hallway, various students and other teachers smile and nod at me as if they know me. A nameplate on one of the office doors says W. Bradshaw. Well, that would be me, once upon a time. I take out the keys Buffy gave me and try one of them in the lock. The second one does the trick. I flip on the lights and walk over to the desk, which dominates the rather small room. A framed photo of Buffy and Megan sits on top. I flip through the planner that lies open on the desk, and see various appointments written in my handwriting.  
  
I can feel myself breathing faster and faster, and I will myself to relax. I have been in a lot of terrifying situations before, but I can't remember actually being afraid until now. Bleedin' ponce, that's what I am. Afraid of a few pimply faced college freshman. I briefly consider bagging the whole thing, but if I want to make a go of this, whatever it is, then I best give it the old college try. Ha, bloody, ha.  
  
I find the lesson plan for the summer session of Intro to English Lit, and thankfully the room number of the class is written on the front. I say a silent prayer to whomever listens to former vampires-now-human-whisked-off- to-an-alternate-dimension that I have actually read whatever book I am teaching today, and as I scan the lesson plan I find I have, more than once. Great Expectations. Well, you can't go wrong with Dickens, I reckon. And Pip, a man after my own heart.  
  
I gather up the book and the paperwork that I think I'll need and head off to the lecture hall. Students are already filing in when I arrive, and I am greeted by many of them as they walk by.  
  
"Good morning, Professor Bradshaw." It's been a long, long time since I've heard my last name. I kind of like this Professor business, though.  
  
I see by the notes that I can't remember making that we are on chapter nine. I hop up on the desk and look at the eager faces staring back at me. Can they tell I have no idea what I'm doing? Ah, it's a challenge. Can't be worse than those bloody trials I...was that a dream? Anyway, ought to be right interesting, if nothing else. I open the book and start to read.  
  
"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."  
  
I look up from the book. "Who can tell me what he means by this?" Several hands go up in the air. As I scan the class, a dark haired girl looks up shyly, her hair partially obscuring her face. She looks back down at her notebook when I try to catch her eye. I grab the seating chart.  
  
"Maria? What do you think?" She looks a little startled, and as she starts to speak, the other students begin to grumble that they can't hear her. I hold up my hand and they fall silent. Neat. "Go ahead, Maria."  
  
She tucks her hair behind her ear, and her voice is a little louder this time. "I th.think it means that, one little thing you d.do, one decision you make, even if it seems insignificant, can affect the r.rest of your life in really important ways."  
  
"Exactly." She smiles and looks back down at her notebook. "And," I say, thinking of another girl with a shy smile and a stutter, "the things you do, or don't do, can affect other people's lives as well. In ways you can't begin to imagine."  
  
TBC 


	3. Real Life, part 3

Real Life, 3/?  
  
Thanks to Kelly for the beta.  
  
I've lived several lifetimes, and it's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. When a vampire sucks blood, it drains the life from its victim. But when Megan looks up adoringly at Buffy as she suckles at her breast, she seems to give her mum life. Buffy looks so peaceful. And peace is something I've rarely seen on that lovely face. When she looks over at me, though, concern clouds her eyes.  
  
"William? What's wrong? You look like you've never seen this before in your life. You are really starting to scare me."  
  
"I...you two, you're just so, so beautiful together," I stammer. Oh, bugger, I'm getting all teary again. Bloody insipid, I am. Megan is finished nursing, and Buffy fastens her blouse before putting the baby over her shoulder to burp her.  
  
"I'm serious, Will. I know there's something you're not telling me."  
  
I'm never going to be able to pull this off. I need to tell her, though I have no idea what to say. But, I plunge in anyway, unsure of what's going to come out of my mouth. Come on, you're what, shocked?  
  
"Do you ever, do you ever feel like maybe, this isn't real? Like, it's all just a wonderful dream?" She gets that little line between her eyebrows. Not good.  
  
"No." She stands up and lays Megan down in the playpen.  
  
"I just mean, we *are* on the hellmouth, and a lot of strange things happen...."  
  
Buffy turns around to face me, arms crossed protectively over her chest. Her chin lifts defiantly and she looks me straight in the eye. "So when are you leaving?"  
  
"What?!" Bloody hell, where did that come from?  
  
"So, this isn't real, it's all a dream...are you going to tell me you need your space now, or my being the slayer is just too much for you, or what?" Her bottom lip starts to tremble, and her eyes fill with tears.  
  
"Buffy, no! No, I never meant anything like that!" I get up and go to her, putting my arms around her, but she just stands there stiffly, not responding. "Buffy, I love you."  
  
"That's what they all say."  
  
I take her face in my hands and look into her eyes. "You are everything to me, love. You know that." She can't hold back the tears any longer. They stream down her face, and her voice breaks. What have I done?  
  
"Then why? Why are you acting so weird? And why are you saying things like our life is just a dream?"  
  
Why, indeed? Who's to say that other life isn't just a nightmare? How do I know which one is really real? Rationalization is a wonderful thing. "Buffy, sometimes, I just can't believe that I'm here with you. I get scared that my real life could never be this good."  
  
She reaches up and traces my lips with her finger tips. Then she brings my head down, and kisses my eyes, my cheeks, my lips. "Do you feel this?" she asks. "Do you feel me?" Her hands travel across my shoulders, down my arms, around my back. Everything I've always wanted, dreamed of. Gentle. Loving. Buffy.  
  
"Yes," I answer, "I feel you."  
  
"I'm real," she whispers, wrapping her arms tightly around me, her head against my chest. "This is real."  
  
************  
  
I am in the midst of a mind blowing make out session with my wife when the door bell rings. Just my luck. The baby has finally fallen asleep, and I was just about to suggest we head upstairs, and now we have company. I have the fleeting urge to rip someone's head off, if only I still could. Buffy swears before she gets up and straightens her clothes. Maybe she'll do it for me.  
  
She puts her hand on the door knob and looks back over her shoulder at me. "Hold that thought," she says as she opens the door.  
  
There on the front porch stands a truly terrifying sight. Xander Harris, in the loudest Hawaiian shirt I have ever seen him wear, and that's saying a lot. He embraces Buffy, and behind him I see Anya, who's apparently taken leave of her senses. Instead of her usual natty attire she is dressed in a shirt which matches the whelps. She is carrying two large shopping bags and is bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.  
  
"Hello, fellow married people!" she chirps.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
I am on my feet now, having lost any and all lingering amorous thoughts; then I too am engulfed in a bear hug. "Will! How's the world's bestest best man?"  
  
Lest there be any doubt left, I now know I truly *am* in bizarro world.  
  
"I'm, uh, fine?" I get another odd look from Buffy. Been getting a lot of those, bearing in mind, I haven't been here a whole day yet.  
  
"How are the newlyweds? How was Hawaii? Do you have pictures?" rapid fires Buffy.  
  
"Great, incredible, and yes!" Anya beams. She and Buffy sit down on the sofa and Anya begins pulling things from the shopping bags. Souvenirs. "I had to do my part to contribute to the tourism industry," she explains. She holds up another Hawaiian shirt. "This is for you!" she says to me. Buffy is hysterical on the sofa. Then Anya pulls out a grass skirt and hands it to the slayer.  
  
"Now, that, I can work with," I say. Buffy's eyebrows shoot up.  
  
"William!" she scolds. But then she holds it up in front of her and wiggles suggestively. Definite possibilities, there.  
  
The women continue to giggle over Anya's purchases, but before I know it a bottle of beer is being slapped in my hand. "Come on, let's escape while we can," says Harris. I follow him out onto the back porch.  
  
We each take a chair, and sit quietly for a few moments, drinking our nice, imported beers. I notice that he looks good, for the whelp. Tan and fit. Relaxed. We are friends, apparently. Best man, he said. I'm not surprised, really. Funny, that. I suppose I should be appalled, but I'm actually not. Perhaps that particular phenomenon does not bear too much introspection.  
  
"Hey, Will," he says, and when I look over, he's looking down at his shoes, a little embarrassed, maybe. "I, uh, well, I'm not much for the whole guy bonding thing, as I never had many guys to bond with." He takes a gulp of beer. "I just wanted to thank you, man. You know?"  
  
Uh, no. "For what, mate?"  
  
He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "You're going to make me say it. Alright, thank you for being there for me, when I was so screwed up. About marrying An, I mean. You didn't tell me what to do, but you were just there, you know? And I appreciate it. And, by the way. You and Buffy? Great advertisement for the whole marriage is a good thing, thing."  
  
Now I am part of the reason the whelp went through with the wedding? Considering what happened between me and Anya in my other life, this gives me some satisfaction. I'm really glad, actually.  
  
"So, you happy, mate?" I take another swig from my bottle.  
  
"Yeah," he grins at me. "It's the best decision I've ever made. She's an incredible woman."  
  
"Yeah," I agree, "that she is." Never thought I'd care whether monkey boy was happy or not. Well, truth be told, I'm still not sure I care. But Anya deserves it, and for some reason Harris seems to make her happy.  
  
We sit in companionable silence, drinking our beers, for several minutes. I am just thinking that it looks like this is a pretty good spot I've landed in. I mean, sure, I feel bad about Red and Tara, but other than that, things seem pretty sweet. Should've known better than to count my chickens, stupid git.  
  
Because that's when the phone starts ringing.  
  
TBC 


	4. Real Life, part 4

Real Life, part 4/?  
  
Thank you Kelly for the beta  
  
  
  
"William, can you get the phone? I'm changing the baby."  
  
"And I'm helping!" calls Anya. "I need the practice!"  
  
I glance over at Harris, who is looking slightly green around the gills. "You do realize you're doomed, mate."  
  
He smiles, though. "Yeah, I know."  
  
We head into the kitchen, and I pick up the phone on the third ring. "Hello dare, William. How are you?" says the strongly accented voice. Jamaican? It's vaguely familiar.  
  
"I'm fine, pet. How are you?" Let's see how long I can fake this.  
  
"Fine, fine. And how's dat sweet little baby of yours?"  
  
"She's marvelous." I am grinning like a fool now.  
  
"Ah, of course. The proud papa you are." Yeah, she's right. Don't have to fake that. Never thought I'd have a kid, that's for sure. Amazing how fast they crawl into your heart and make it their own. "Is your wife available?" the woman asks.  
  
"Hang on, pet." I hand the phone to Buffy, who has just entered the kitchen, then Harris and I go into the living room where Anya is sitting with the baby. Harris turns on the TV, and I hear the most incredibly inane theme song ever. Enough to make my ears bleed, it is.  
  
"Small town girl in the big time world, kuh-kuh-kuh Cordy, kuh-kuh-kuh Cordy! Designin' fashion is her life's passion, kuh-kuh-kuh Cordy, kuh-kuh-kuh Cordy! Forget Gucci, Prada, and Versace, She works with what she's got, She's kuh-kuh-kuh Cordy, CORDY!"  
  
"Hey, wait a minute..." I say. Something about that beautiful brunette looks familiar. Just as Harris is turning the channel, I see the words, "Cordy! Starring Cordelia Chase," flicker across the screen. Cordelia Chase. Hold on. That's the cheerleader. Angel's cheerleader.  
  
Harris looks over at his wife guiltily. "Sorry," he says.  
  
She rolls her eyes at him, but then smiles as he sits down next to her on the sofa and holds his arms out for the baby.  
  
As I try to suss out how Cordy came to be a TV star, I can still see Buffy on the phone from where I sit. She speaks for a few a minutes, and clicks the phone off. Then she stands there for a moment, lost in thought. Just as I'm wondering if I should go talk to her, she hangs the phone up and walks into the living room.  
  
"That was Kendra," she says to us, as she unlocks the now babyproofed weapons chest.  
  
Bloody hell, Kendra's that slayer that Dru bagged. I knew she sounded familiar. She's still alive. But then, I never brought Dru to this Sunnydale.  
  
"Something wrong. Buffster?" Xander asks Buffy. His voice is careful, measured. And now I'm worried.  
  
"Oh, her watcher got wind of some temporal disturbance near the hell mouth. Disturbing the balance, yadda, yadda, yadda," Buffy says, her voice forced casual. She doesn't look up. "I guess the council had no plans to tell me, so she thought she ought to let me know."  
  
"Well, that's good, right? The knowing, I mean," says Xander.  
  
"Yeah, except they're large with the vagueness, not much to go on." Buffy takes out an axe and a few stakes before locking the chest back up.  
  
"What are you doin', love? It's barely sundown."  
  
"I need to do a short patrol." She gives the baby and I a quick kiss, then puts her jacket on and tucks the stakes inside.  
  
"Wait, Buff, I thought we could hang out, get a pizza. We can get the kind with the pineapple and everything," says Xander.  
  
"Yes, the *Hawaiian* pizza," smiles Anya, "in our honor!"  
  
"Sorry, not tonight," Buffy answers.  
  
"Wait, love, I'll go with you..." I start to say, as the door slams in my face.  
  
So there we all are, looking at the door. "Somebody wanna tell me what that was all about?" I ask.  
  
"Hearing from Kendra, it brings up all those Angel issues," says Anya. Harris shoots her a look, but holds his tongue. Then I realize I must be giving her a look too, because she starts to apologize. "I'm sorry, this is one of those things that everyone knows but no one talks about and I should just shut up now shouldn't I?"  
  
Xander bounces the baby on his lap. "It's o.k., An. You're right, everyone knows that Kendra dusted Angel. Or, Angelus, actually, but still. And in my oh so humble opinion, it was no great loss. Buffy just feels responsible because of that whole moment of happiness thing. Hearing from Kendra always reminds her of what happened. Still, she hasn't done the quick exit routine in a long time. Not since you," he says, looking at me. The shock I feel must be written all over my face.  
  
Harris gets a pained expression. "Sorry." Now he's apologizing, too. He looks from me to Anya. "He was an asshole, Will. And that was before he turned evil."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I mean, I'm sure you're right," I manage to say.  
  
Angelus is dust.  
  
I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I never got along with the stupid git. And after Dru, well, I wished the great poof dead plenty of times myself. Still, never really imagined it would happen. Known him for over 100 years. So much for helping the helpless and all that rubbish, prophesy boy. So, I don't quite know what to do with this new information, or how I'm supposed to feel. Although it's kind of obvious how Buffy feels.  
  
And that pisses me off.  
  
It's my fault, though. I made her feel all insecure with my 'is this a dream?' crap. See if I ever try to be honest again. I just buggered everything up. And now she's gone off all half-cocked and armed to the gills. Quick patrol? Yeah, right. More like her usual running away. I get the tropical twins to watch Megan, and I take off after the slayer.  
  
It feels good to be out in the night air. Natural. However, while I am also well armed, I feel strangely vulnerable. Well, not so strangely. I'm only human, after all. Buffy has a good jump on me, but I have a feeling I know where she's going. I enter our favorite cemetery and take a gander at my old crypt. I wax a bit nostalgic. Lots of good times there. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice yelling in fear.  
  
"No! Please don't hurt me! I'm unarmed!" I run towards the sound and find Buffy about to take a swing at...Clem!  
  
"Buffy, NO!" I shout. She turns on me, axe raised, her look at once curious and annoyed.  
  
"Hello, demon? What's the problem?"  
  
"He's a good demon, Buffy. Doesn't kill humans. The worst he does is...well, nevermind, but he doesn't kill humans, I'm sure of it." Somehow I don't think the kitten revelation would sit well with the slayer in her current mood.  
  
She looks uncertain. "How do you know?"  
  
"I, well, I was doing some...some demon research! And I happened to see this one, in the book. That's a face that's hard to forget, don't you agree?" Clem gives her his most winning smile.  
  
Slowly she lowers the axe. "Well, if you're sure," she says, still gazing warily at Clem.  
  
He turns grateful eyes on me. "Thanks, buddy. I don't know who you are, but I sure am glad you showed up when you did!" He rummages through the grocery sack he is carrying. "Here, have some mint Milano's," he offers. I have to smile.  
  
"No, mate, You keep them. And toddle off home before the slayer changes her mind, why don't you?"  
  
"Yes sir!" He smiles nervously. "'Night, slayer," he says. She just gives him a patented Buffy eye roll.  
  
We watch Clem walk away, and then Buffy addresses me. "You want to tell me a., why you're following me, and 2., what the heck was *that* all about?"  
  
"I'm not following you, I'm just...I was worried. The way you just ran out like that."  
  
She turns and starts to walk away. I follow. Like a sodding puppy dog. "I didn't run out. I had to patrol."  
  
I take her arm and try to stop her, but she jerks her arm away. "Buffy, I know what this is about," I say, as gently as I can manage. Bleedin' Angel, I'd stake him if he wasn't dust already, doing this to her.  
  
"No, you haven't a clue." She keeps walking.  
  
"What happened to Angel is not your fault. And I'm not going to leave you," I say to her retreating back. She stops, but doesn't turn around, at first. Finally she does. She is smiling, sadly.  
  
"Everyone leaves eventually. Even if they don't want to." She takes a few steps forward. "Even if they don't mean to."  
  
I walk the rest of the way to her and put my arms around her. "Not me, sweetheart. Not me. In this or any other world, I am with you, always." She looks up at me, and it is such a gift, to see the love there, shining in her eyes.  
  
"You liar," she smiles. Then she kisses me. "You want to tell me why you rushed in all Lone Ranger and saved the wrinkly guy?"  
  
"Because, he's not evil," I answer. "And, I think you should save your strength for demons who can really do some damage. Like, say, those guys right behind you."  
  
She turns around, her back against me, and we both look at the demons advancing on us. Spiny, horned, enormous. Fyarls. I am pleased to discover that I can still understand their language. One looks at the other, and speaks.  
  
"Crush?" it asks. "Crush now?"  
  
tbc 


	5. Real Life, part 5

Thanks to Kelly for the beta  
  
  
  
  
  
Real Life, part 5  
  
  
  
I stare down the pair of demons. "Which one do you want to take out, love? There's one for each of us. Buffy? Buffy!" Oh, blast. I'm not sure what has induced this latest state of catatonia, but I am sure that, somehow, I am at fault. She just stands there, like the bot when she needed a recharge. The Fyarls are within arms reach now. Well, their arms, anyway, and I have to shove Buffy out of the way before one of them takes off her head. I swing my axe, but with only a mortal man's strength behind it, one of the Fyarls simply plucks it out of my hands. "Mad now!" it roars. Not that it makes much difference.  
  
Running seems to be the best option at this point, since they're as fast as they are bright. However, I can't leave the wife behind. She's still sitting on the ground, where she fell when I pushed her. I shake her and she stares blankly at me. "Come on, love, snap out of it." I get no response. I slap her face. Still nothing. Sod it. I haul off and land a left hook to her jaw, nearly breaking my hand in the process. Her head snaps back and then she seems to finally understand what's going on. She looks at me, just in time to see me picked up and thrown through the air.  
  
That's the last thing I remember before I come to next to a grave marker with a hell of a headache, my head in Buffy's lap. She is stroking my hair, and crying. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she says, over and over again. I look behind her and see the two Fyarls dead on the ground several feet away. They must have thrown me quite a distance.  
  
"It's o.k., love. I'm alright." I struggle to sit up, but she doesn't look at me. Just keeps crying. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently turn her towards me. "Buffy, what is it?"  
  
"I know it's crazy, but I was afraid that one of those Fyarls might have been him. Or maybe someone else. That's crazy, right? But I wasn't sure because, back then, I should have known, somehow. I mean, it was Giles! If I could have just seen him before they took him, I'm sure I would've known it was him. They couldn't tell, until he was dead. They tortured him! Fucking Initiative! And that stupid Agent Finn. 'We're sorry for the error, Miss Summers. We thought he was a hostile.'" She's sobbing now, and my mind is racing, trying to put it all together. Fyarls. Initiative. Giles. And then, I realize she's talking about Fyarl Giles.  
  
Two hundred bucks.  
  
I helped him that night for a paltry two hundred dollars, not out of the goodness of my undead heart, but for the money. And for a laugh. And to stick it to the Initiative. And, let's face it, because I kind of liked the bloke. Is that what Rupert Giles's life is worth? Two hundred dollars? I remember what it was like for Buffy when her watcher left for England. I can't imagine what she went through, losing him permanently. The middle of the cemetery is not the place to contemplate all of this, though.  
  
I stand up and pull Buffy up with me. "Come on, love, we've got to get you home."  
  
Her eyes are unfocused and her voice takes on this sort of dreamy quality that chills me to the bone. "They're all dead because of me. Dead and gone. I failed them. I failed them all. First Angel, then Giles, then Mom...and, and, oh God, Will, I miss my sister so much." What?  
  
No. No, she can't mean what I think she means.  
  
I look down at the headstone we've been sitting next to, and what I see there drops me to my knees. "Nibblet. No, not you, nibblet."  
  
Dawn Summers 1986-2001 Beloved Daughter, Sister, Friend She Saved the World  
  
"It should have been me," Buffy says, looking down at me sadly. "How was I supposed to choose between my sister and my baby? How was I supposed to choose?"  
  
I cannot speak. I crawl across the grass and press my head against the cool stone of the marker. Dawn. Dawn jumped from that tower. Buffy was pregnant, pregnant with our baby, and she couldn't bring herself to do it. Buffy lived. But one of them had to die.  
  
I trace my fingers over the letters carved into the stone. "You're a hero, little bit," I whisper. And then I start to cry. Not my sweet bit. Not my Dawn. And my poor Buffy. How *was* she supposed to choose? And how has she lived with it all this time, with all of it?  
  
When I finally pull myself together enough to look up, Buffy is gone. I stand and look around me, but she's nowhere to be seen. I know where she's headed, though. With her speed, I just hope I make it in time.  
  
I take off running for that bloody tower.  
  
Sunnydale is not that big, but I have to stop twice and catch my breath before I reach the damn thing. Each time, I pause and wonder why the hell I wanted to be human again. The wind has begun to whip around me, and suddenly, a bolt of lightning cracks the sky.  
  
When I finally get there, I see my girl. The rickety monstrosity built by crazy people still stands, one hundred feet in the air, and Buffy has just reached the top. Why didn't the idiots that run this town take it down? She stands there, feet spread apart, wind blowing her hair back, staring out into the night. It begins to rain then, and her clothes are soon plastered to her body. I know if I try to climb, I'll be too slow, and I don't know if that tower can take the weight of one more person anyway. I just hope she can hear me from where she is.  
  
"Buffy! Buffy!" She looks down at me, but says nothing. "Buffy! You have to come down! Megan needs you. I need you," I shout. "Buffy, we can't lose you. Don't put us through that." I'm not sure how much she hears through the wind and the rain, but she puts her head in her hands then, and sinks down on the platform, her shoulders shaking. I breath a sigh of relief. At least she's not trying to jump. Maybe I'll have to go up there and get her anyway, though. I decide to try again to convince her to come down. "Buffy, love..."  
  
That's when the tower collapses.  
  
Once again I can hear someone screaming, and once again it is me. "NO! Buffy!" I watch helplessly as the tower begins to fold in upon itself. I can no longer see Buffy, and I close my eyes, unable to watch this happen again. The wind continues to gust and the pelting rain stings my skin. I hear another bolt of lightning crack and strike a tree somewhere nearby. And then, without warning, all is quiet. Dead quiet.  
  
I slowly open my eyes to the most astounding sight. The world has freeze framed around me. Pieces of the tower remain suspended in mid-air. The wind is silent. Even the rain drops just hang in the air. Nothing moves except me.  
  
Well, me and that big demony looking guy who's now walking towards me. Never saw one of these, before. I really, really wish I had my axe. He is huge, gray, and looks like a demonized, metallicized linebacker with glowing red eyes. He sticks his hand out and I wait for the paralyzing mucous or poisonous stinger or whatever nastiness he's got for me.  
  
But he just smiles congenially and says, "Hey, how ya doin'? The name's Skip."  
  
TBC 


	6. Real Life, part 6

Special Thanks: As always, to Kelly for the beta  
  
Notes: Angst warning, folks  
  
"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality..." (Freddie Mercury, r.i.p.)  
  
Real Life, part 6  
  
Stunned, and not knowing what else to do, I shake the bloke's hand. "What the...?"  
  
"Oh, this?" he says, waving his arm at the world which has stopped around us. "Neat trick, isn't it?"  
  
"Neat? Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?"  
  
He laughs. "Bloody hell? You Brits use such colorful language. I really, really enjoy it." His smile fades as I give him the most dangerous glare I can muster. Game face would be really helpful about now. "O.K., o.k., I understand. You have questions. I have answers. You see, I work for the Powers that Be. And this?" He gestures toward the collapsing tower. "This just won't do."  
  
"The Powers that Be? I'm not bloody Angel."  
  
"Yes, I know. And believe me, he's not my favorite person either. But when you went to 'Lurky', as you call him," he chuckles. "That was so funny, let me tell you. We all got a laugh out of that when we reviewed the tape. You are charming, in a roguish kind of way, aren't you?"  
  
I glare again.  
  
"Nevermind. Anyway, the PTB took an interest. And then 'Lurky' went and overstepped his bounds. Like, big time. Changing history? They really don't go for that. His security clearance is going WAY down."  
  
I think my head is going to explode. "Look mate, I'm sure you're a terrific bloke with a very important job and everything but, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE BLOODY HELL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"  
  
"Sorry, sorry, no need to yell. I forget that you don't have the back story. This is the deal. You asked 'Lurky' to make you human, which he did, but he made it so you were never a vampire, and history has been changed. And not in a good way."  
  
"Wait, I thought I was in some alternate dimension or some such thing."  
  
"Nope. Same dimension. Same people. But you were never a vampire this time around, and you can see how that one little detail has changed things."  
  
"Oh, God, this is all my fault," I look over at the tower, still suspended in mid-air.  
  
"Eh, don't blame yourself. I have to inform you, though, that the PTB can not allow this to continue. The world must be returned to its previous state."  
  
"Because of Buffy?" I say, still staring at the falling structure.  
  
"She's a part of it, but there's also Angel and Cordelia. Not to mention the Key."  
  
"What? What does the nibblet have to do with anything?"  
  
"More than you know. And more than I can tell. You've got to go back."  
  
I begin to pace. I know, it's annoying, but it helps me think. "It's a Wonderful sodding Unlife," I mutter. This makes Skip laugh again.  
  
"Well, you're no Jimmy Stewart, but I get the reference."  
  
I am really starting to get a headache. "So, now we go back and everything's back the way it was? I went through those trials for nothing?"  
  
"No, you earned a reward, which I've been authorized to grant you. What do you want?"  
  
"I want what I asked for, to be what I was, to be a real man with a soul, what Buffy deserves."  
  
Skip scratches the back of his head. "Now, see, that brings up all sorts of...complications."  
  
"What do you mean?" I take a step closer to him, hoping to intimidate him. I don't like the way this conversation is going. Skip, however, doesn't move.  
  
"You must have wondered about the memory thing? Lurky messed up. He was in the process of trying to correct it when he got suspended."  
  
"Well, I know I don't have memories of this life. I remember that I was a vampire and well..."  
  
"How far back does your memory go?"  
  
Again, not liking the direction of the conversation.  
  
"I remember escaping from the Initiative, most everything since then. Before that, it's kind of bits and pieces. People, mostly. Dru, Angelus, Darla..." That's odd. I could swear I was going to say something else....  
  
"The memories of your life as a vampire have faded, because in this world, you never were a vampire. None of them should have been there in the first place, but something got lost in the transition. Lurky was planning to fix it, and give you your human memories, but then he, well..."  
  
"...got suspended, you told me. So, what are you saying, exactly? What am I not remembering?"  
  
"I find showing is better than telling, in many cases."  
  
Suddenly I am in an alley, and Drusilla is in vamp face. "Do you want it?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
Angelus, inches away from staking me.  
  
A young Chinese girl, a fight to the death.  
  
A three year old child cowering in a coal bin. I pull her out and give her to Drusilla as a gift.  
  
A snapping neck, a leather coat.  
  
An angry mob.  
  
"Ask me again why I could never love you."  
  
These images flash by me like slides in a projector. When they finally stop, I am doubled over from the pain. My head is spinning and waves of nausea wash over me. I can't breathe. I can't speak. What have I done?  
  
"If you go back to being a vampire, you won't have to feel this way, Spike."  
  
That last memory of Buffy is the only one I had remembered up till now. Still, it's the one that seals the deal for me. I make a decision. I stand up straight and look Skip in the eye. "I still want it. I still want to be a human being with a soul. Whatever I have to go through, I'm willing to take that on."  
  
Skip smiles a little sadly at me. "I can do that for you," he says softly, "but you know, sometimes, we can't escape our destiny."  
  
"Destiny?"  
  
"I like you, Spike. And because of that, I'm going to give you a little preview of what your future as a man will be like."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
The world goes white and I am momentarily blinded by the brightness. Then, the light fades, and I am walking in a Sunnydale cemetery with Buffy. We are patrolling, and without warning we are jumped by at least ten vampires who hold each of us firmly, but don't try to harm us. I hear childlike laughter, and turn my head to see Drusilla, resplendent in a blood red gown, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, walking into our midst. One of the vamps says, "We did as you wished, my queen."  
  
Dru claps her hands joyfully. "Yes you have, my good men. You've captured my black knight! Such a courageous warrior, he is." She glides up to me, and I can see Buffy struggle. But Drusilla has chosen her minions well, and the slayer is unable to break free. Buffy looks into my eyes, and she's terrified.  
  
"Such a good boy," says Dru. "But she'll never really love you. Not like I do."  
  
"Dru, don't do this," I plead. She runs her fingernail down my cheek, drawing blood.  
  
"Oh, but I've missed you," she pouts. "Silly, silly boy. Did you really think I wouldn't come and fetch you?" She licks the blood off my face, and I shiver with pleasure in spite of myself. "We'll be together again. The brave knight and his dark princess. Do you want it?" Dru goes into vamp face, and I can't tear my eyes away from her. "Do you want it?" she asks again.  
  
"No," I whisper.  
  
"We'll see about that," she says. Her fangs pierce my neck and I can't say a word. As my life slips away from me, the last thing I hear is Buffy, screaming my name.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
I am surrounded by the blinding light once again, and then I'm back with Skip.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says.  
  
Tears sting my eyes. Then it comes to me. The solution. "Alright then, make me a vampire with a soul."  
  
"A vampire with a soul? You sure about that?"  
  
"Look, the only vampire with a soul I'm aware of is a big poofter with bad hair. But it's the only thing I can think of. It's the only way I can trust myself around Buffy again. You got any better ideas?"  
  
"Well, no. Not if you're hell bent on this soul thing."  
  
"I am. And I want it permanently attached, too. None of this so-called happiness clause bull, alright?"  
  
"Alright, my man. You ready?"  
  
"I suppose. Except, what about my baby? What's going to happen to her?"  
  
Skip sighs. "She won't ever have existed," he explains gently.  
  
"Isn't there some way, maybe, to..."  
  
"No. I'm sorry, but no."  
  
My heart is in my throat. "I want to see her again."  
  
Skip stares at me for a moment, and then waves a large arm. "Done," he says. The next thing I know, we're standing in the hallway outside the nursery. "I've taken her out of suspended animation. I'll just wait out here."  
  
I walk into the room and gaze down at Megan in her crib. She smiles at me, waving her arms and kicking her feet. She wants to be picked up. She struggles, trying to sit up on her own, and I reach down and give her some help. Picking the baby up, all I can think of is that a creature such as me does not deserve to hold such a pure and innocent being. She doesn't know what I've done, though. I'm just her daddy, and she loves me. How am I supposed to give that up? I know I'll never have that kind of love again.  
  
I hold her in front of me and walk over to look into the mirror on her wall. We both smile at our reflections. I imagine her face is as unfamiliar to her as mine is to me, after all this time. Her head close to mine, I see she does have my eyes. And my chin. Her mum's coloring. And Buffy's nose, of course, bump and all. My sandy brown hair. I tickle her under her chin, and she laughs, and I can see Buffy. I feel an ache in my chest and I press my nose against the back of her neck, breathing in her scent. My tears fall on her skin and she starts to wiggle a little at the feeling. I turn her and lift her up so that her face is in front of me.  
  
"I love you," I whisper. She laughs and grabs my nose, and I smile at her. The love I feel for this tiny person swells up in me and overwhelms the bad feelings for a moment, and I think that there may be hope for me yet. Kissing her cheek, I lay her back in her crib, wind up her music box, and hand her her security blanket. She shoves a stubby thumb in her mouth and begins sucking contentedly. I take a deep breath, and wipe my face with my hands. When I walk out the door and close it behind me, I don't look back.  
  
"O.K., I'm ready," I tell Skip. "But there's one thing. I want to remember. I want you to let me remember all this." I can't think about it right now. I just have to focus on the fact that I have no choice, not in this. But later, I want to think about her. I want to remember. Skip doesn't speak for a moment.  
  
"I'm proud to know you, William," he finally says to me.  
  
Well, that's a first. We begin walking down the hall, and my throat starts to close up again. Dammit. "I can't believe I've only known that little munchkin for less than 24 hours. It seems like forever." Skip smiles that knowing smile again. God, that's aggravating. "What now?"  
  
"You know," he says, putting an arm around my shoulders, "people often spend several lifetimes meeting up with the same souls. Lifetime after lifetime, they just keep ending up together, drawn together it seems."  
  
"What are you saying? That I've known Megan's soul before or something?"  
  
Skip shrugs. "Could be. What did you say her middle name was again?"  
  
"I...I didn't say. I don't know her middle name." The hallway, and Skip, start to fade around me. "Wait! Skip! What's her middle name?"  
  
I can barely hear him as he says, "you'll have to ask your wife."  
  
Bugger.  
  
I am in an African cave, and a demon who looks like he could be Lurky's brother is there as well. "You have survived the trials. What is it you desire?" he asks.  
  
"I want my soul back," I answer. "And you'd better get it right this time, mate."  
  
He places a clawed hand on my chest. "Very well. We will return your soul."  
  
The end.  
  
(Oh, alright. There's an epilogue.) 


	7. Real Life, epilogue

Thanks to Kelly for the beta and the encouragement, and to everyone who gave such great feedback during this series.  
  
Real Life, epilogue  
  
  
  
It's been a year, now. A really rough year, and I thought about waiting out the sunrise more than once. But I didn't. Had a little help, glad to say. Willow, mainly. Misery loves company and all that. I was shocked at what happened to Tara. Especially since, well, you know. Will once said to me that she thought if Tara had the choice, she would have stayed in Sunnydale, even knowing what would happen, because she would have been miserable going back home. Right out of the blue she said it. Wonder why.  
  
The bit came 'round eventually. Something else that bonded Red and I, I suppose: the wrath of Dawn. Especially since we both love her so much. Still, the two of us had it coming. Took a while to win her over. In the end, it was my complete patheticness that did it. She caught me following her around one night, and we had it out. I ended up telling her how scared I was that something would happen to her. Keep seeing that bloody headstone in my nightmares, not that I told her that part. She started stopping by to see me once in awhile after that. Actually speaking to me when I was at the house. Now we're buddies again. Didn't realize how much I missed it. Missed her.  
  
Harris is another story. We're not exactly friends. Still, he's civil to me. Mostly. Amazing the humility that comes with getting ones heart broken. And I should know. Wouldn't wish that on the whelp, even. I'm glad for Anya and Rupes, though. And Ripper? Well, he and I have had a few all nighters, let me tell you. He's not around enough, if you ask me. Back and forth between here and Bath. Still, they're happy, and that's good.  
  
The slayer? Well, she and I are friends, now. She even calls me that in front of people and everything. Called me her "ex" once. Marked that one down in my journal. Except, you know the whole 'you'll never be friends' thing? It's pretty much true. I mean, we *are* friends, but that's not all we are. There's always something there, just beneath the surface. At least for me. I think for her, too, though that could be my imagination. She does get a bit prickly whenever any girls are sniffing around me at the Bronze. Not that I'm interested. I don't even flirt with them. Much. Buffy sure is cute when she's mad, especially when she's trying to pretend that she isn't. Ah, well, maybe someday. Maybe not. Ball's in the slayer's court, now.  
  
So anyway, I go to the house to pick Buffy up for patrol, and I find her and Dawn awash in a sea of pastel tissue, wrapping paper, and ribbon. Seems Buffy is going to a baby shower tomorrow - someone she works with. Dawn holds up the smallest little baby sleeper I've ever seen.  
  
"Look, isn't it sweet? Have you ever seen something so teeny tiny?" she asks me. I look over at Buffy, who's head slowly turns from the sleeper to me. I see something there in her eyes. Longing? Maybe it's just a reflection of what's in my own. She gets up and gathers her things.  
  
"Can you finish wrapping that for me Dawn? Spike and I have to get going." Dawn agrees, and we head out.  
  
We're half way to the cemetery before I ask her what I haven't had the nerve, or opportunity to, till now. "Hey slayer? If you ever had a kid, what would you name her?"  
  
"Never thought about it," she answers quickly. She keeps walking.  
  
"Never? I thought all birds thought about that kind of thing."  
  
"No sense thinking about something that's never going to happen," she says curtly. I rarely know when to shut up, but this time I do.  
  
Forty minutes and several vampires later, she says, "What about you?"  
  
"What about me, what?"  
  
"Have you ever thought about having kids? I mean, before," she says, a little embarrassed. She busies herself brushing vamp dust off her clothes.  
  
"Yeah," I answer, "I always wanted a little girl."  
  
"Really?" she asks, looking over at me.  
  
"Pretty hard to imagine, isn't it?" We start walking back towards her house.  
  
A couple of minutes go by. "It's not that hard to imagine," Buffy says. "You're good at taking care of people."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean, like Dawn. Or Drusilla, for that matter. Or me." She sneaks a glance at me, and when she sees me smiling at her she stammers, "Uh, so, what would you name her? This little girl."  
  
"Megan."  
  
She stops dead in her tracks. "Megan? Why Megan?"  
  
"Don't know. Just always liked the name, I guess." She starts to say something, stops herself, then seems to finally decide to go ahead with it.  
  
"That's weird because, well, that's the name I always wanted for my little girl," she says.  
  
"I thought you said you never..."  
  
"I lied. I just don't like to think about it anymore because I know it's never going to happen."  
  
"Yeah," I say, "I know the feeling."  
  
We walk the rest of the way in silence, and when we reach her house, I walk her to the door. She always laughs at me because I won't leave until she's inside. This time she doesn't laugh, and I lean against the side of the house while she unlocks the door.  
  
"Did you want to come in for awhile?" she asks.  
  
"No thanks, not tonight," I say. She does occasionally invite me in for cocoa, but I'm far too emotional tonight not to do or say something stupid.  
  
"O.K.," she says, smiling. "Goodnight, then."  
  
"Hey, Buffy? What would be her middle name?"  
  
She laughs. "You know, when I was a little girl, it used to be Megan Marie." Marie, I'm thinking, who do I know named Marie? "Dumb, isn't it?" Well, yeah, it is, but I don't say that. "But that's not what it would be anymore. Now it would be, Megan Joyce."  
  
Joyce? Oh, God. Joyce. "That's...Buffy, that's perfect."  
  
Buffy takes a step towards me, and I can see tears in her eyes. I reach out to her, and then she's in my arms, her head against my chest. Silent tears soak my t-shirt.  
  
"Spike, I miss her," she says softly. "I miss her so much."  
  
"Me too, love," I say, stroking her hair. "Me too."  
  
  
  
The end. 


End file.
